Slight Aberration
by OryssaV
Summary: There is a very rare mental illness that touches only male wizards. Unfortunately Severus and Neville are the victims. SS & NL...


**title**: Slight Aberration  
**author**: OryssaV  
**rating**: R  
**pairings**: SS/NL  
**summary**: about neville who went mad...  
**warning(s): **violence, blood, insanity  
**disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**author's notes**: i don't know where this story came from... well, oki, i know where it came from but let's not go there. this is an odd one too. note? both, neville and severus have a mental illness… the illness is totally made up and the name I got from latin translator (and i bet it isn't accurate). hope that explains the story for those who think I don't make sense.

…:…

_Severus is drinking his coffee in his favorite mug today. The coffee is black, milkless, and sugarless. It is bitter just like he likes his things the most. The mug itself is his favorite because it is solid blue and it's plain. There are no surprises in a blue color. One can trace it with his or her fingers in absurd patters seemingly without an end, and to him or her they make sense. The touch of the polished surface is reassuring; it is silky under the fingertips and so orderly. It is his routine of ages as it seems. At the stuff table no one interrupts him as he drinks his black liquid. He holds the mug in his yellowish and stained with different potion ingredients fingers carefully because it burns and gashes his skin. But at the same time it feels good. Just enough to tell him it is still fresh, still warm. None of the professors are very talkative in the morning and he appreciates that. _

_His silence always allows him to think._

_And the smell of the drink wakes him up bit by bit. He bents his neck and brings the mug to his pale lips and takes a careful sip. His hair falls around his face and he feels content in his blackness. Forgetful._

_-_:-

Neville changed over the summer. He acts coolly, in a detached manner. Nothing seems to make him care. One can tell in the way he goes around things, never responds unless to direct questions or orders that something is going on in his brain – something you possibly don't want to know about. His eyes always look far away, somewhere beyond your shoulder if you are talking to him. They never meet your eyes in a conversation, his smiles are scarce and forced. And he blends with the shadows all too well, his clothes grey, his face pale and outlined with veins. His robes are always loose, sleeves long covering all of his hands except his palms. His hair is messy, heavy and longer than usual. It is always falling on his forehead and sometimes gets into his eyes. He goes around the hallways or just sits in one position doing his homework. He doesn't do anything, just slides down the floor doing what is required of a student nothing else.

Neville is silent these days. He always has been silent but there was this clumsy silence around him; clumsy and yet so homely and safe. There was none of the awareness that surrounds him now. He seems like he knows more than you, knows something terrible and the secret is eating him up inside. Severus can't decipher it. He finds the fact that that fool actually isn't so much of a fool anymore, and it is disturbing because Severus lost his favorite puppet. Potions would never be the same since he won't be able to insult Neville like before. The boy doesn't respond to anything so trivial. And thus, feeling disappointed in such crude fact makes Severus… uneasy. Severus rarely feels disappointed.

Severus goes about his teaching and brewing and yelling, acting like he doesn't see the change over there, acting like he isn't the only one who sees something odd flicker in those eyes. But now Neville's eyes are closed most of the time. Neville is listening to music. The earphones cover his ears and whatever he hears in that vacuum… brings something to him. Probably it brings forgetfulness, and thus that is the relief.

-:-

Severus listens to music too.

He picked up on the habit when so many people around him started running away into the world of earphones. Severus thinks of it as a habit, because it feels good and decidedly so, something that feels good one is bound to repeat. After a while, one can't stop and that then it becomes an addiction. Severus knows that too, been there and done that. Somehow it feels like he never recovered. There were those days that when he got music on nothing brought him back… and the fine lines between reality and the other slowly broke up. And magic soon melted away and lacked his mind in a total bliss. It was a disease.

But Severus allows himself that tiny bit of pleasure again when everything outside of Hogwarts seems to go so wrong. Reality hurts even him, a man of steel nerves. After a day of hard work he likes to snuggle in his favorite chair by the fire-place. He stares at the dancing fires and unconsciously his toes follow the music. Sometimes he covers himself with his fluffy blanket and drinks wine or reads a book. But he listens. Yet, it is not that mumble jumble people listen to lately. He finds it difficult and shallow. Not to mention what kind of headache his delicate brain repays him with.

And every time he does it, he feels even more ashamed that he fell out of a place. It happened so long ago, and yet he remembers it so clearly. It was so easy to get himself lost, but to come back it took all he had. And he fought, he fought all his life. Look where it got him to?

-:-

Something changes again this day. Days merge into one. They all are the same, the same because there is no more of that silence that had attached to him ever since his recovery. It never was a calm silence but it was silence nonetheless, and it was his. Severus doesn't know if he should go to Dumbledore because that what is happening is a bad sign. His foggy mind can tell that things are going down and yet, he tells himself he is strong and that he can take it. But he grows thin, shallow and his skin transparent. There is pain involved. There is hurt like there has never been before. Disappointment breaks down slowly inside of him, like food he barely touched.

He catches Neville staring at him at breakfast. A tear ghosts in his eye.

Severus knows he caused it. He feels it. But his logical brain can't find the flow, and he's never felt this guilty before. He hadn't shown anything. No one ever knew except Dumbledore.

-:-

Severus can't take it anymore. He can't eat, can't sleep. But worst of all, he can't think.

He also knows what, or rather who caused it. He has some amends to fix and some threats to make. He goes to Gryffindor table at lunch deliberately slow, his steps faltering a little. When he reaches it, he throws his hands on top of the table between the food with such force as the Golden Trio and associates jump up scared out of their wits. They jumped but Neville didn't. "Snap out of it!" Severus yells distinctly remembering that kind of behavior was unacceptable. He just couldn't place why it wasn't. Drastic times call for drastic change. Severus feels desperate and scared and he doesn't like that. A pair of lingering blue eyes rises to meet his eye; they're toying with him. Although one eyebrow arches in startled question Severus takes the tranquility as an insult. Severus knows a lie when he sees one.

And it angers him beyond his comprehension. He hadn't been this angry for a long time and he doesn't fancy being this angry again. EVER. He spreads his hands that curled into fist on the table and brings his face closer to the staring boy. "Snap. Out. Of. It!" He says through clenched teeth, each word punctuated, accented and much to his dismay pleading. Neville spares him a calculating glance and whispers, his soft breath landing on Severus face.

"Play with me."

Oh, sweet and short agony of agonies that you put Severus through. This sounds incredulous. He leaves in a hurry because he knows that's what the boy want...

-:-

Severus pretends he doesn't know what Neville means. But he knows exactly what that boy meant that day but he won't admit it to himself. He can't go back to the way he was, he has too much to risk and too many people are in his care. And Albus promised NO ONE would ever know. He promised and yet, that brat did know. How he found out Severus wasn't so sure. He knows one thing, and that is that he isn't safe anymore. He even wonders if he ever was safe. Now he just tries to talk himself into not caring. Because Severus doesn't care that the boy knows. Severus knows his duties and will not succumb to that what he used to be. He tells himself it doesn't matter and he doesn't feel like he used to. He only feels something nameless in his chest like something is weighing on him. His breath comes in short, heavy and harsh even to his own ears.

The next day all gets clearer. The reality of what the boy wants hits Severus square in his eyes. So far he could avoid the subject, believe that the boy wanted something else from him than what his mind was telling him. Severus is about to step into his office near the classroom now empty when a tall shadow from behind falls on him. He turns around ready to beat the intruder at his own game like a good death eater and spy he is, only to see Neville holding something in his hand -a much worn violin.

"Play with me…" the boy whispers quietly and extends the instrument. Severus feels like someone has just winded him, knocked him back and stepped all over him. His vision blurs and his head gets dizzy. He runs into his office with the last bits of strength he has and slams the door shut. The pain is his. He was mistaken there because it wasn't Neville's. It was his. It always has been his. He knows what the boy wants, undoubtedly now. And he can't stop the tears running. Why does the past always return to him? Why does it hunt him so much?

-:-

Severus couldn't believe his eyes. And he can't believe Albus either. The boy carries the violin with him, EVERYWHERE. He brings it to classroom, he brings it while he eats and Severus can bet that he takes it to showers too, if he showers. Currently it lies on the table amongst the food. Severus wonders how come his "friends" hadn't said anything so far. How come Albus had not said anything? Nothing about his odd behavior was mentioned, and no gossip followed whatsoever. Severus can tell, because it hadn't reached him yet, and it always did reach him. Right now, Severus feels obliged to order the boy to keep the instrument in his dorm. But he knows the mistake when he sees himself in Neville. He can't afford mistakes. Wizarding world can't afford mistakes like them.

The boy doesn't look up when he calls on him. Not even when he addresses him in his practiced voice giving orders. Severus stands there at the table feeling ridiculously exposed, with all those faces staring at him. All but one, and the one he wants to look at him doesn't. But Neville doesn't need to look at Severus to know he is there.

"Play with me." Neville pleads.

No! Severus feels like shouting at the top of his voice. He feels like grabbing him by his hideous clothes at his arms and shake him, shake him until the brat comes to his senses. Doesn't the boy get it? It is so fucking dangerous what he's doing. So fucking dangerous. And Severus, whatever little bravado he has, can't do it.

"I can't."

And Severus wonders why does he sound so broken? Neville has him undone. Severus makes a move to turn around and leave when a speck of red color catches his eyes and he freezes on the spot. His eyes widen, breathing quickens and he knows that what he sees are hallucinations. He is farther gone that Neville. The boy is bleeding. His hands bleed. But Severus can't see where the wound is, where the blood is coming from. And it all is so real, the air smells of metallic blood. Severus can almost taste it on his tongue. And because of that he feels frantic. He feels the pain Neville goes through. Severus knows it isn't Neville who inflicted it. It is himself. Neville stares at him with clouded eyes evidently distressed. He doesn't even look surprised when he looks at himself. "Play with me." And that voice sounds almost dead.

He can't, can he not? Neville gets up and crawls onto the table and over the people. His clothes are getting dirty with whatever food there was on the table. His bloodied hands push the dishes away. Blindly they catch the violin and caressing it they raised it up and arrange it on Neville's arms. He starts playing. His blood colors the strings and Severus feels it on his lips. He can feel every note sliding up his spine and up. Neville plays his body alive, plays it dead. It leaves Severus breathless, shattered. He falls to his knees crying, covering his face with his hands. His hair veils him like a widow. Tears slide down his cheek one after another, red. Severus tastes blood and he knows this time it is his own. His heart bleeds for this instrument, for what he lost. And he picks up his eyes to stare at the ocean of blue, to look just once more at the sky. He asks for forgiveness. He sobs with open mouth while saliva mixes with blood and hair. His hands clutch at his shoulders as Severus cradles himself to these moans. He rocks back and forth sighing, sniffing and forgetting. Then Neville slides down while he pauses his bloody play. He kneels in front of Severus. Neville's hands are rough and scorched as they caress down Severus' cheek.

"Play for me…"

And this time Severus does.

-:-

_Severus tilts his head maidenly, like he has just woken from a sleep… and it was a nightmare. He probably did something or made some weird noise while "waking" up because they all are staring at him oddly. Severus shrugs and stands up ready to leave his audience and go to his rooms. Gathering his stuff he goes round the table and down the alley to the exits of the Great Hall. He hasn't even realized why he's leaving through the main door, when he could have just as easily go though faculty ones. But he has forgotten. And he feels uneasy, sensing something out of ordinary… and it frightens him._

_What they're all looking at? Severus knows something's wrong, not the way it used to be. They all look accusingly, pointedly and pretty much inappropriately. Neville steps up and smiles vaguely at Severus. He takes out his hand and Severus looks at the palm and drawing his lips together he spits at it Neville's look hardens and for a moment Severus regrets everything. He looks at Neville and whispers against his better judgment._

"_You will play someday. Just not now…"_

_Neville smiles. _

"_I intend, with you." He replies quietly._

_Severus looks at him languidly judging, evaluating and hating. "You're mine boy! Mine to posses and my hand to die at…Keep that in mind."_

_With satisfaction Severus sees Neville's smile waver._

Koniec

By: oV


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